On a strangely quiet Monday I took a photo of where I sat. It's my desk in my "office." It's not really just an office. And it's not really just mine. We'll call it multifunctional. Jointly owned. In here I read, write, research, organize, study, pray, ponder, water plants, stitch, search the file cabinet for … Continue reading Hidden Pictures
Christian
Pen Pal Marty
When color TV came to our basement in the late 60s, it brought with it the bloody reality of the nightly news of Vietnam. The war had been safely gray up to that point. In 1968 I was just seven and in 2nd grade but "Hanoi" and "Saigon" were familiar words to me, though without … Continue reading Pen Pal Marty
The End of Coco’s Tail
It begins long before the tale of Coco's tail, way before my boyfriend introduced me to his own actual family. We start here. On 1st Street in Nampa, Idaho. In this old house. Once upon a time there was a skinny college boy who needed a place to stay during the summer. The boy had … Continue reading The End of Coco’s Tail
Ebenezer
The smell of wood smoke rises from the old stone chimney of the Ramble In if my eyes are closed and my head held at a proper tilt. I can feel the thin Rocky Mountain air in my well-adapted young lungs and hear pine needle covered trails crunch under my feet as I scramble up, … Continue reading Ebenezer
Dominick and the Duck
Far far away, many many years ago in a Kindergarten classroom on the last day of school, five-year old Dominick gave me a little clay duck. Well, I've always called it a duck but truthfully its identity is a bit vague. You decide. To reveal the immediate thought that ran through my head might paint … Continue reading Dominick and the Duck
A Whittled Goodbye
There were a lot of words on this page just a few minutes ago. It felt a little silly when all I really want to say is, "thank you." So I whittled a tree down to a toothpick. Writing an occasional word to you has been a unique journey for me, a steep learning curve … Continue reading A Whittled Goodbye
Mrs. Farkas
On a narrow street in a small city in Idaho there lived an unassuming little lady who saved our family's musical bacon. She really did. No two ways about it. Ruth Farkas of Koster Street. She was a missing puzzle piece we didn't know we needed. Roxanne's very first piano lesson on Koster Street At … Continue reading Mrs. Farkas
The Streets of Laredo
Question for you: What's more important, striving to be the descendant that previous generations would be proud of? Or working every day to become an ancestor that future generations would want to claim as theirs? You think on that for a while and we'll circle back. Very briefly I'd like to sum up what's been … Continue reading The Streets of Laredo
Heat in the Pipes
The following was written 2 1/2 years ago. Much has changed. All these words still hold true but contain an additional brightness, an urgency to be noticed. We do not know if those we interacted with are still living. We do not know if the buildings we entered and enjoyed are still standing. What we … Continue reading Heat in the Pipes
The Homestead of Hope
Entering the world at the tail end of the Baby Boomers and growing up in the 60s and 70s, my decorative surroundings were very much oriented to flower power, wood paneling, wicker swag lamps, and David Cassidy posters. Strangely though, my wandering daydreams often took me to a time a hundred years prior when life … Continue reading The Homestead of Hope
Beyond Lashley Lane 